Canadia's Hockey
by LollipopTurtle
Summary: When France drops by to visit Canada, he finds out how truly vicious the Canadian can be when it comes to watching sports. Specifically, hockey. Rated T for swearing.


Canadia's Hockey

Summary: This is a oneshot crack about how France came to visit Canada during a hockey game. Needless to say, he sees something unexpected. rated T for cursing.

 **Hey Hey! So this is my first time uploading a story and I have no idea what I'm doing. Could you guys give me some hints and tips? Like, how do I do line breaks? Or just about anything...**

 **Disclaimer: Do I own Hetalia? Nope. Nada. Nyet. Nien. No...**

 **Warning: Foul language, OOC Canada**

\\(^U^)/

France got out of his car, quietly shutting the door to his scarlet Ferrari. He gazed at the two story house, smirking slightly. The Frenchman chuckled quietly as he thought of how surprised the petite Canadian would be when he found France on his doorstep. France quickly walked up to the door, ringing the doorbell. There was no answer. The nation took a step back and gazed uncertainty into the window. Perhaps Canada wasn't home. But he could faintly hear a T.V coming from inside the house, and the light was on in the living European man rang Canada's doorbell once more and knocked loudly.

"The doors unlocked, let yourself in!"

France sighed. Canada had left the door unlocked again? That nation was simply to trusting. And the voice sounded a lot like a certain obnoxious American. That would make this visit quite a lot less fun. Something was a bit off with the superpower's voice though. He could have sworn he heard an "eh!" At the end of his sentence. The blonde shook his head and turned the doorknob, walking inside.

When the Frenchman walked in he was immediately assaulted by the sound of a blaring television. France sighed again while pitying the Canadian's poor ears. America was probably forcing the violet eyed nation to watch some horror film with him. France strode towards the living room when he saw a shaking figure curled in a corner. It was probably Canada hiding from America. He approached the blanket draped figure and pulled off the cloth.

"Uwaahhh! Please don't hurt me Canada! I'm sorry for throwing baseballs too hard and calling your grandma hot! And I'm really sorry for changing the channel!"

"Ahem."

The younger nation looked up. His terror quickly faded, replaced with relief. "Oh, it's only you France. I thought you were Canada"

"I gathered that much." The Frenchman replied dryly. "So, what exactly is wrong with Canada?" Had the northern nation finally snapped? He couldn't blame the poor boy. The Canadian had been ignored a lot. Or maybe he had gone on another three hour rant.

"Hockey" America replied, snapping France out of his train of thought.

"Excusez-moi?"

"He's watching hockey" the agitated young man repeated.

"What exactly do you mean?" The Frenchman asked, puzzled.

The United States grabbed his arm. "CANADA'S BEEN POSSESSED BY THE EVIL SPIRITS OF HOCKEY!"

' _Okay_ ' France thought. ' _Cross that. It's America who's gone insane'_  
France rolled his eyes and walked away from the hysterical American, leaving the whimpering nation behind him as he continues to the arch leading to the living room.

The European stepped through into the living room, wincing at the ungodly noise level the T.V was at. He made his way towards the leather couch that faced away from the archway, smiling as he focused only on the mop of blonde hair.

"Bonjour Canada!" He shouted joyfully over the noise while leaning down to hug his former ward. Suddenly the northern nation sprang up.

"The reff's fuckin' biased! That bender was obviously butt-ending him! It should call for a penalty!" He roared.

France reeled as he stared, shocked, at his former younger brother. He slowly looked around, finally taking note of the beer cans, ripped up cushions, and Kuma-something gnawing on a hockey puck.

His gaze went back to the colder nations face. Or, rather, the war paint on it. Canada has red and white streaks of paint on his face, masking his features. He was wearing a hockey jersey with the name "Williams" on the back and was shaking a hockey stick that had... THE BLOOD OF HIS ENEMIES!

( No, not really, forget the author ever said that. She is very sorry, but she couldn't help but put it in. Again, deepest apologies. She will now sit in the corner of shame.) Resuming in 3...2...1...ACTION!

He was wearing a hockey jersey with the name "Williams" on the back and was shaking the hockey stick in rage at the T.V. The most noticeable thing about the young man were his eyes. They were practically glowing with bloodlust.

"C'mon ya' damn duster! My mother plays better than you, bastard!"

France gaped. Was this really his animal really his precious Canada?

The blue eyed nation must have made a sound, because the other blonde turned around and smiled angelically at the Frenchman.  
"Hi France! Do you want to watch the game with me?" He asked in his normal whisper of a voice.

The European man backed away, not sure if he wanted to be near this rabid hockey fan. "Non, I should be going now..."

Canada grabbed France's arm and sat him down on the couch with surprising strength. "Of course you do" the maple loving nation said, smiling.  
The younger nation turned his attention back to the T.V. and jumped up, throwing a handful of popcorn at the screen.

"What was that #7? I should go out there and teach you about the Canadian spirit, because you obviously don't know it!

"Ahh, Canada? Are you okay?"

The Canuck looked down, puzzled. "Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I b-" He quickly turned towards the screen. "WOOO! Yeah! Goal! Go to hell ya' Soviets!" He looked back at France. "Would you like some pancakes?" He offered.

"No thank you." France suspected that someone had put something in his pancakes. No way Canada would purposely act this way... Right?

"Hey #14! Can't you keep your balance? You lost the puck! And #3! C'mon, a mere broken bone can't keep you off the ice! I don't care how many freaking paramedics you need! Your country is ordering you back into the rink!"

 _~LET'S PRETEND THIS IS AN ACTUAL LINE BREAK~_

France was sitting as far from the Canuck as possible. Canada was chugging a bottle of maple syrup laced with Labatt Blue while Kumajirou dutily continued chewing on the hockey puck.

"I'm going to go down the and strangle that ref! The blonde nation screamed as Kuma tore up yet another pillow in frustration. "My team was supposed to win! The Canadians! Not those reds! Ivan obviously bribed the referees!"

By now the European was convinced that Alfred was right and that the docile nation had indeed been possessed. No mere drug could put that fury in his former wards eyes.

Canada turned and looked at France thoughtfully. The young nations mood seemed to have shifted quite quickly. "Have you seen Alfred around? He was watching hockey with me earlier, but went to the bathroom. I haven't seen him since."

France glanced around furtively. "I 'ave no idea mon ami! I must be 'eading 'ome now!" He said, his accent rather thick. He ran out of the room grabbing America on the way. As he left, he crossed himself and muttered a prayer for the house and those that dwelled within it, hoping the evil spirits would disperse.

Canada watched. Why was France acting so oddly? "Weird... OK, well Kumanina! Time for bed!"

Kumajirou looked up. "Who?"

 **AN**

 **HI AGAIN! So, you made it through my crappy writing? I hope it'll get better with practice.**

 **(*Hides in corner again and starts muttering* Will anyone see this? Will this actually make it onto the bright google search options or will it lay dormant in the ever gloomy midnight shadows of the unknown internet?)**

 **But in the meantime, please rate and review!**

 **May lollipops fall from the sky and all turtles fly!**

 **~Senorita LollipopTurtle**


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